The Case of Abigail Corbit
by MapleMaven
Summary: A tie in to my story A Strange and Wonderful Place. Mike and the rest of Abby's friends are left with the pieces of what happened on that faithful night. Where did she go? And how will they move on? Rated teen for swearing.


_So I had a few people ask about what happened to Abby's friends. Well, vola! For those of you not aware, this a tie in for my story _A Strange and Wonderful Place_. If anyone has any questions, PM me!_

_Hope you enjoy. _

_Bioware owns all._

* * *

**The Case of Abigail Corbit**

Mike looked worriedly at the cave opening again for the hundredth time. The entire area was packed now compared to an hour ago-was it only that long?- when Abby had fallen during the cave-in. An ambulance, two police cars, and a truck covered in spelunking logos and stickers surrounded the entrance.

He looked down the road instead at his boyfriend and Amber, who were in the process of phoning Abby's aunt to give her the news. Amber was on her cellphone, gesturing wildly at the landscape. She must have just told her. When people became upset around Amber, she turned into a flailing chicken.

_Fuck_. Mick thought-again-for the hundredth time. He had promised Mrs. Pace that he would take care of Abigail. She hadn't been pleased when they had informed her that they planned to go to the states for school. She had been less then pleased when they told her it was in Utah, God only knows why. Now how could Abby function? Could she even walk? Did she have brain damage? He would never forgive himself if she couldn't live a normal life again. If she was even alive…

"Someone's coming," Kat whimpered, probably because he had told her to stop wringing her hands. It was bugging the shit out of him.

The three police officers had come out of the cave mouth, their faces almost impassive. Well, the younger cop wasn't impassive at all. He looked as suspicious as hell.

"Is this some kind of joke?" he spluttered angrily.

The cop almost cringed as his female partner gave him a warning look that meant business before she spoke. "The specialist we called in said there is a lot blood, but he found no body."

"No body!" Kat screeched, jumping up to face the officer. "Where in the hell could she have gone?"

The female cop put up her hands to defend herself from Kat's fuming death glare. "Relax kid. He also mentioned that there is no other route or place that she could have, er, rolled off to. We are now treating this as a crime scene."

"A crime scene," Amber's voice barked. "What the fuck?"

Mike turned to face the returning pair, his voice grim. "They tell us Abigail's body is gone."

Jared blanched while Amber gave a barely muffled "bullshit" directed at the cave.

"No! You're lying, I saw her fall," Kat yelled as if to convince everyone they were wrong. The two male officers stopped her from walking to the cave, and she struggled. "I saw her, I saw her…" she repeated, but it was no use, so she stopped struggling.

"We're taking all of you into custody until further notice," the third, balding cap said. "Please come with us, or we will use force."

"I don't believe this," Amber snarled. "We didn't do anything to her!"

The female cop motioned for us to follow. "Please, don't fight this. The sooner we figure this out, the sooner you all can go home."

_That's a croc, _Mike thought, but he didn't complain as the younger cop shoved him and Jared into one of the cop cars. His eyes never left the entrance of the cave as they drove away until he couldn't find it any more in the Utah desert night.

"What happened?" Jared whispered to him. "You were there the entire time."

"I know," Mike whispered back, gladly taking the outstretched hand that was offered to him. Something wasn't right.

But what was it?

* * *

"I am so sorry Mrs. P," Mike said tiredly. He felt so heavy, as if his weight would push him through the concrete floor.

"How could this have happened? And to Abby of all people!" she wailed, tearing at her hair. She looked like she had been on the wing of the plane, not the cabin, her usual tight bun replaced with a ponytail that was failing at its job. The clothes she had on were obviously just randomly grabbed from her drawer, opposite to her very picky style, everything clashing against one another.

After Amber's call she had arrived a day later to town, not picked up by Mike in his red truck as she had expected, but by a taxi driver that had taken her to the police station. That had been when all hell had broken loose. Mike had heard her screaming from his cell.

"I don't know," he repeated. The phrase was wearing on him and it sounded more like a noise then an actual collection of words.

_That's what happens when one repeats a word for more than eighteen hours straight at a pissed detective._

Lily Pace was calming down, giving a sniff before looking at him. "Just so you know Mike, I believe you and the other kids. I know you would never do anything to her." She lost control and started crying again.

"That means a lot to me, you have no idea."

She patted his hand gently and acquired another tissue out of her purse. That had to be number 34. Mike had no idea where she was keeping all of them, but they kept coming, the used ones littering the table like snow.

A sharp knock at the door made both of them jump. Some of the tissues fell on the floor.

"I guess that's all the time I have," Mrs. Pace commented sadly. "I'll get someone to pick up your truck, alright?"

"Thanks Mrs. P."

She got up and as she opened the door, the detective came in. The stocky Latino man was becoming the bane of Mike's existence, asking questions over and over again as if he was waiting for Mike to make a mistake. He waved Abby's aunt out rudely before addressing Mike.

"I don't know if I should feel sorry for you, or call you a lucky bastard," he commented bluntly.

Mike just raised his eyebrows in response.

"Please my good sir, have a bit of tact will you," a high female voice trilled.

The detective moved aside and a tall, blonde woman wearing a skirt and jacket suit and a man of African descent with the male version of the ensemble walked into the room.

"Lovely," the woman said lightly, using a briefcase to push off the used tissues to the floor. "Could you give the three of us some privacy please?" she asked the detective sweetly. The detective opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it and left. The door echoed as it closed with a slight click. Mike figured that was the sound of his future. Or the end of it.

"So," Mike began as they went through papers. "Do I get a phone call or something?"

To his surprise, they both laughed, the man's deep voice contrasting badly with his female counterpart's bubbly giggle.

"Look, we work for the government," the man rumbled. "You can call me Rick, and this is my partner Jillian."

"What section of the government?" Mike bit back a gag as Jillian sat down, her sweet perfume hitting him like a wall.

"That's classified," Jillian said as she pulled out a cigarette and an ash tray. "Do you mind?"

"Go ahead," Mike relented. He obviously didn't want to piss these people off. Letting her smoke was the least he could do.

Rick took out a notebook and started writing while his partner took a long drag.

"So," she breathed out, "you and your friends are having a party. You've had a few drinks and decide to go into the cave." Mike waited as she took another inhale. "The unthinkable happens and your friend, Abigail Corbit, falls down the equivalent of eighty feet."

Mike stayed silent. This was what he told the detective.

"Amazingly, there is a chance that she survived the fall, as you can hear her whimpering in pain. A friend calls nine-one-one and you stay with her in that cave until you are asked to leave," another pause. "But you can't see her because the flashlight you have isn't strong enough. Only the small noises she is making echoes through the cave to give you any indication that she is still alive."

"I've lived through it," Mike said darkly. He wished these people would get to the point.

"When did you stop hearing her, approximately?" Rick asked, not looking up from his notebook.

Mike frowned. "Uh, I guess when I heard the cop car sirens."

Rick started scribbling madly.

Jillian tapped her cigarette on the ash tray. "Did Abigail do well in school? Did she have any hobbies?"

Mike blinked. "What?"

"Did you not hear me? Or did you not understand the question?"

"I don't understand how that relates to the fact that she's missing."

"Just answer the question."

"No!" Mike shouted. He gave a shaky sigh and ran a hand through his hair. "Sorry, I've been up for a while."

"We understand," Jillian leaned back, resting her legs on the table. "You're frustrated, and you want answers. But we _need_ answers."

"Why? What's the difference between someone who's known her since she was five, and a bunch of strangers who claim they work for the government?" He stared at Jillian until she looked at her partner.

Rick tore himself away from his partner and his notebook. "Because Abigail's case could help us save more people. Please, answer the question."

Mike gave in against his better judgment. "She plays the cello, right? I guess that's a hobby. She does well in school, high eighties, even some nineties."

More scribbling.

"Did her aunt ever get her IQ tested to see if she was gifted?" Jillian asked.

"Why don't you ask her yourself?"

She crinkled her nose in disgust. "She hasn't been co-operating. And we can't obtain her history…"

Mike gave an evil smirk. "Because Abby is Canadian."

Rick exchanged a look with his partner that screamed don't-lose-it."Did Abigail believe in supernatural forces? Did she ever show any odd…talents?"

That was the last straw. "Are you people sure you work for the government? Shouldn't these question be composed of 'Did she have a clingy boyfriend?' or 'Did you notice any suspicious things about the area?'"

"Actually, that was my next question," Rick commented dryly.

"Just wait," Jillian poked her cigarette at Mike. "We do work for the government. Don't make me get out my badge. And before you accuse us of anything else, let me explain."

"That's classified," Rick growled at her.

"Yes it is, but I was on the Coriam case, and my partner was told to be as secretive as possible. That's the file that trains the new agents on how _not_ to handle the situation. This needs to be handled differently."

"But who's to say that this kid-"

"I'm still here," Mike said icily.

"-Won't react in a harmful way?"

Jillian gave a rough chuckle. "What's he going to do? Tell someone?"

Rick just went back to his notebook. Mike almost could feel the man fuming from across the table.

Jillian squashed her cigarette in the tray. "You will have to sign something of course."

Mike gave a slight nod, so she opened up her suitcase and grabbed a paper and pen. He didn't bother reading the fine print, he was Canadian too, they seemed to have forgotten that part. He couldn't go to jail for treason against the states from what he was aware of.

"Excellent," She took the paper back with a smile. "Let's see. Spartacus, Henry Hudson, John Lansing Jr., and Philip Cairns. What do all of these men have in common? They all disappeared off the face of the earth without a trace. All in very different circumstances, each stranger than the next.

"Spartacus was leading a revolution in ancient Rome when he went missing. A soldier turned slave, he and his army of escaped slaves met the roman army. The final confrontation ended in tragedy for the rebels, and Spartacus was presumed dead, but his body? The Romans are known for parading their enemies in the streets of Rome after a victory, but not this time. His body was never found.

"Henry Hudson was captain of a ship exploring the New World when his crew led a mutiny against him, his son, and seven other crewmen. They were left on the coast of Hudson Bay, never to be seen again. The weirdest part? The local natives have no memory of nine white men living near or with them. That was 1611.

"John Lansing Jr. was last seen on December 12, 1829. He was a politician in New York, declared missing after he left his apartment to mail a letter that was never sent. Murder was suspected for the longest time, but there was no sign of a struggle. No guilty party was ever found.

"Philip Cairns, 1986, was walking home from school for lunch. He never made it. Six days after he was declared missing, his bag was found in an area that had already been searched. His geography book and two religious books were not in that bag when they had been before. Many suspects were considered, but the case still remains unsolved to this day.

"Abigail Corbit, 2012, at a party with her friends, disappears after falling down a cave cliff during an internal cave in. No exit point, and she fell down eight stories, something no one ever walks away from. Abigail's case is one of hundreds of unsolved mysterious happenings in our recorded history, and then in another category of _eight_ that are confirmed. But hers may be the most important yet. If this case is what we think it is, we might be able to help warn, if not stop this from happening. Either Abigail Corbit was abducted by little green men," she gave an amused laugh, "or, she was transported to an alternate reality."

Mike blinked. "is this some kind of joke? Am I being punk'd?" He looked at the door, hoping to high heaven that Abby would come strolling in, a big grin on her face. She would laugh at his face, wink at him and say _gottcha_.

But it never happened. He just sat there, waiting for one of the government agents to say something.

"How?" he finally breathed, shifting his gaze from the door. He hadn't realized he wasn't breathing till just then.

"We aren't exactly sure how it happens, or why. But there is a pattern. All of these cases are people that were gifted in some form, or they were well known for their leadership," Rick offered. "Only because of certain technologies that have come around in the past few decades have we been able to detect certain inconsistencies in the earth's electromagnetic field."

Mike didn't look up. "That's what makes compasses work right?" he asked weakly.

Jillian smiled. "That's the basics of it, yes. It had almost been impossible to notice these changes. But in 1988 we finally had a break through. Abigail's case follows the same principle as that first confirmed case."

"Stop talking about her like she can't come back!" Their exchanged look made something click in Mike's head. "Can…can she come back?"

"Look," Rick said again, "We barely understand this occurrence, much less reverse it. Even if the reality she went to had the technology to even bring her back, there are an unlimited amount of realities, in theory. It would be almost impossible to pin-point the exact one she came from. That's all assuming that she even made it through the experience alive."

"Just stop!" Mike was done. It was all too much. Not ever see Abby again? He'd rather be burned alive. They had been best friends since kindergarten.

Jillian gave an obviously well practiced sympathy smile. "You and your friends are free to go," she gave a nod to Rick and he started packing. "No charges will be laid against you, and we will contact your school to make sure that any exams you have missed can be completed at a later date."

They started to leave when Mike realized something. "What am I supposed to tell the family?"

Jillian dumped her ash tray into the garbage. "Nothing. She has already been declared missing by the state police. They won't find anything, but we can't tell them to stop looking. I'm afraid that the family is going to suffer, but there's nothing we can do."

"You should tell the public that this is happening!" He hit his fist on the table. "You can't just let people hurt because they've been given a hope that will never be proved right!"

"Who would believe it," Rick rumbled. "And for those who would, they would panic. Imagine people living in fear because at any moment they could be in their homes at one heartbeat and then someplace else the next? No, it's better this way. Goodbye Mr. Harris."

That was it. They had done their job, so they left Mike in that room, leaving it the same way that they had found it.

_Except those damn tissues are still on the floor._

* * *

"There's a lot of people here," Mike commented. They were at Mrs. Pace's house, where it was currently housing at least one hundred people. It had been Kat's idea, everyone coming together to pray for Abby.

"She touched a lot of people's lives," Jared said quietly. He wove his fingers into Mike's, something that was becoming second nature to the two of them.

The past tense of his boyfriend's sentence didn't escape Mike's notice, but he knew that there wasn't much hope among the people in the house. Not a lot of people that went missing in caves came back, even if they were healthy.

"This was a great idea, but sometimes if Mrs. Pace thinks no one is looking, she starts crying," Mike said sadly.

"I noticed. But there isn't anything you can do about it," Jared said gently, giving his hand a squeeze.

Mike was about to ask were Amber had gone off to when shouting caught his attention.

"Sounds like we should be over there," Mike fumed. How could people be arguing at a time like this?

"Right behind you."

The scene they stumbled upon was Mrs. Pace and Abby's uncle Eric in the middle of a stare down in the entrance with a man he didn't recognized.

"Mrs. P?" Jared interrupted gently. "Is something wrong?"

The stranger tore his gaze away from the angry pair. As soon as he saw Mike his eyes went wide with surprise.

"Michael? Christ, it's been awhile hasn't it." The man's rough voice gave him away instantly.

"Mr. Corbit," Mike greeted. "I didn't recognize you without the beard and leather outfit."

In fact, he looked great, sober even. He had a suit on, his usual ponytail replaced with a army style hair cut.

He gave a nervous laugh. "I've been, um...making some obligatory changes in my life style."

Mike held out his hand. "Good for you." He was surprised that he actually meant it.

Ray Corbit looked at the offered hand for a second in shock before he shook it. Mike figured it was definitely a change from the last welcome he had received.

"Thanks Michael."

"Mike!" Mrs. Pace snapped. "He shouldn't be here!"

He gave a tired sigh. "Maybe when he was different, but even if she didn't, she wouldn't want us fighting about it."

Mrs. Pace looked like she might slap him, but decided better of it and angrily stalked off, her brother following behind her.

"Thanks Michael. I really appreciate this. I just wish Abby would come home safe and sound so she can see how far I've come." He gave a heavy sniff. "So, are you a friend of Abby's?" he asked Jared while getting a tissue.

"I am. Mike is my boyfriend. Abby set us up."

If Ray was taken unawares that Mike was gay, he didn't show it, shaking Jared's hand politely.

"Mike?" Amber walked in looking nervous. "That woman from the police station is outside. She said she wants to talk to you."

Mike motioned to Jared. "Could you show Mr. Corbit around?"

"Of course," Jared obliged.

Mike went into the car covered driveway, an uneasy feeling creeping into his heart. What could this woman want from him now?

Jillian stood at the end of the street, wearing a skirt and blouse ensemble, a file in her hands. She was nursing a smoke when she noticed him.

"Mr. Harris," she greeted.

"Jillian."

"Could we go for a walk?" She kept looking around as if someone was going to come around the corner and see them.

"Sure, follow me."

He took her into the backyard. It was Mrs. Pace's pride and joy. She had painstakingly grown a fantastic garden over the years. He used to hang out with Abby here after school, doing homework and looking for insects. As they grew up they would spend hours talking about the future. He smiled at the distant memory, glad that they had spent all that time together. It still didn't feel like enough.

He sat down on the well used park bench. "What brings you here?" he attempted.

"You can cut the crap. I know you're not pleased to see me. Especially not here, not now."

"Being nice never hurt."

She snorted softly. "I guess not." She crushed her smoke under her high heel and procured another from her purse. "I'm not supposed to be here. If my partner or my superiors knew, they'd have my head on a plate, but when I saw, heard what had come from the satellite…I had to tell you."

"Last time you talked to me you didn't seem to give a rats ass about me," he kicked a small rock on the pathway.

"I know, but I have to be cold. It's in the job description, but every once in a while we get a file that you know will affect you, the ones were you just know that person is never coming back, whether alive or in a casket."

"Then why did you even come to that jail?"

She gave a harsh laugh. "I don't have a choice. When I was called in, the department already knew that Abigail was a confirmed case, but protocol dictates someone needs to go into the field to confirm. That's why I'm here actually, because of what we found."

He sat up. "What is it?"

"So, other then the honour of being the ninth confirmed case in recorded history," she opened the file. "Abigail's case is the largest spike in the earth's electromagnetic field we have ever seen, or so we thought until one of our interns started digging. A confirmed case from three years ago had the exact same numbers. And that was a family of three."

"What does all of that mean?"

"It could mean anything. One scientist thinks that they could have been transported to the same reality. The thing is, nine cases in the past twenty-four years isn't going to help us. We need at least another century before we could get any conclusive data to help sort this out."

"And people are still going to go missing." It wasn't a question.

She still answered anyway. "Exactly."

"Holy crap," he croaked. "That's some heavy shit you're playing in."

"You have no idea."

Jillian put the file in her purse. "That's not all. We got something from the satellite that has never been recorded before. We got sound. I know it doesn't sound like much, and at first it wasn't, just a bunch of static. You see, the spikes in the field or only nanoseconds long, that's hardly enough time for anything, let alone sound. Our team attempted to clean it up, and last week they made a break through. It was actual words. Two to be exact: 'She survives'."

"What?" Mike jumped up. "Was it Abby? How is that possible?"

"No," Mike deflated, "it wasn't her. How do we know? Because it was an older woman's voice, and it too could mean anything. I just thought that you should know."

Mike couldn't believe it. There was a chance, however remote, that Abby was alive. But where could she be?

"Goodbye Mr. Harris. I hope that we never see each other again."

"Yah, me too," but he shook her hand all the same and watched her leave the garden before going back in the house.

* * *

He never told Jared.

Or anyone else.

And they never did 'find' Abby. Not even a fake body.

Both him and Jared ended up losing contact with Amber and Kat. It was painful for both girls to be reminded that someone was missing from the group. As for Mike and Jared, it made their relationship stronger. However, when Kat got married, they were invited. Kat made more of an effort to visit them after that.

Once a year they would visit Mrs. Pace. It sort of became like a second thanksgiving for all the people who were not afraid to remember. Mrs. Pace never forgave Ray Corbit, but they did get along somewhat at the gatherings. Ray ended up creating a foundation for families with missing children. It helped hundreds of families over the years, and even helped find some of the children that went missing. Ray gained a lot of respect and the Abigail Corbit Foundation became a household name.

Mike couldn't watch television anymore. It was painful watching the news, hearing about someone that had been declared missing. Not knowing if they were really missing from a human reason or not. Even fiction television was bad. The stories either being so off it was hurtful, or being so close to home it made him squirm.

But life went on. Mike stayed with Jared. They got married legally in Canada and adopted a kid. They were happy, but they never forgot.

Mike would always wonder if Abby was ever as happy as he was. He would pray for her every night, hoping that where ever she was she was safe, those two words giving him hope.

_She survives._


End file.
